


Dark Visions

by lanri



Series: Unseen [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindness, Episode: Nightmare, Gen, Season 1, Unseen 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanri/pseuds/lanri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Unseen ‘verse, sort of tag to Bloody Mary and Home, tag to Nightmare. Sam can actually really see, whenever he has a vision. But maybe that's not a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Visions

He couldn’t ever talk to Dean about it. Not really, and Sam felt like he was doing something wrong, hiding it from Dean.

The first dream—one of Jess dying—had started three weeks before Dean had come to see Sam at school. Before Jess had died.

The dream was still sharp and vivid. And Sam really hated himself for how he felt about it.

Because by all realistic standards, it was awful. Jess was on the ceiling, in a white nightdress, stretched out unnaturally, mouth open in a silent scream. Blood on her abdomen, fire in her hair.

But he could see her. It wasn’t just some vague memory from when he was ten or some impression of the colors. Sam could really see how beautiful Jess was in a way he’d never been able to, even as he watched her brutal death.

It was a strange combination of awe and horror and guilt, every time he thought about it. Awe at being able to see, horror at her death, and guilt that he hadn’t stopped it.

The guilt was enough to help out on one hunt for a Bloody Mary. That was all it was good for, aside from making it difficult for Sam to sleep at night.

The rest of the time, the memories of the dream fueled a weird state of examination as he reveled in the vibrant colors while consumed by grief.

Then he had another one.

“Dean,” he whispered into the silence of the room.

“Whazzit, Sammy?” Dean slurred.

Sam bit his lip. “Nothing,” he murmured.

“Nightmare?” Dean asked, his voice now sharper.

“It was . . . look, it’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“Oh, no, Sammy, you don’t get out that easy. C’mon, man. Give me something here.”

“It was a house. And a person made of fire. And some people I’ve never—” Sam almost said ‘seen’ but managed to switch it to a quick “—met.”

“Uh, and?” Dean yawned.

“That was it,” Sam said softly.

“You need me to, um, come over there?”

Sam snorted. “No.”

Dean was silent for a moment, before murmuring, “sleep well, Sammy.”

The dreams of the people, a fiery figure, a strange tree, and a house kept Sam up the entire night. Funny, how all of his dreams, the strange ones where he could really see, ended up with fire.

And then it was far too detailed for Sam to ignore anymore.

* * *

“So you’re saying that you saw Jess die?” Dean knew his voice was too blunt, and Sam’s wince confirmed it.

“I don’t know why, or how. But I dreamed it before it happened. And then there was that dream a couple months ago, and that, I saw it too. This one, I think it’s gonna happen soon.”

“Saw, as in—”

“Actually saw.” Sam’s face spasmed with something unreadable.

Dean ran his hands through his hair and blew out a big breath. “Right. So, this nightmare you had.”

Sam flashed a relieved smile, and then they were gone, searching out what was going on. The drive was quick, fueled by Sam’s insistence on time being limited before whoever he saw in his dream would die.

Dean was still trying to process the fact that his little brother was psychic without speaking the words aloud.

“So, the dream you mentioned a while ago,” he started.

“Yeah. That might’ve been one. I wasn’t sure though, and there wasn’t anything for me to pinpoint or figure out where it was.”

“Okay.” Dean took a deep breath, trying to make it as silent as possible.

“You’re freaked. I get it, Dean, but save it for after,” Sam said curtly. Kid had ears like a bat.

“I’m not freaked.”

“Sure.” Dean really didn’t like Sam’s sarcasm.

“Dude, I’m not. Just trying to process the fact that my brother’s a friggin’ psychic, okay?” Well, his attempt to not spit that out had failed epically.

Sam went completely still. “Got it,” he finally murmured, and Dean mentally cursed himself and the whole world.

Dean hated ever seeing Sam hurt or in trouble. He hated it more when he couldn’t do anything. And the investigation was chock full of it.

“Hey, Sam, Sam . . .” He had a decent grip on Sam’s arms, but Sam just stood stock still, the white of his eyes seeming to flicker and move and his expression full of pain.

“Dean, it’s Max. The kid in the family, he killed them. His family, he’s killing them with some kind of telekinesis.”

“Easy, Sammy, calm down.” Dean got a firmer grip on Sam’s sweatshirt and tilted his face towards him, noting the lines that normally spoke of pain. “Are you okay?”

As Dean expected, Sam shook it off. “It doesn’t matter, we have to go now.”

Dean hustled Sam into the Impala, worriedly taking in Sam’s shaky steps. It was like when Sam had first become blind.

“Dude, you stay in the car. I’ll go take him out.”

Sam turned to him, a compulsive habit Sam had despite the fact that he couldn’t actually pin him with a glare. Dean had always kinda wondered if Sam would have been good at glaring. “We’re not killing him, Dean. He’s human.”

“And he’s about to kill his stepmom,” Dean reasoned.

“Dean. Let me talk with him.”

Reluctantly, he agreed.

* * *

Sam centered himself on the kid in front of him. Weird, that he would think of Max as a kid, he thought momentarily, even though they were the same age.

They were similar in so many ways.

“Max, this means something. That both of us have these psychic abilities. You can’t just ignore that.”

“Then what does it mean?” Max demanded. “Tell me that, if you’re able to see the future.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said helplessly.

“That’s not good enough.”

Sam stood, sensing Max doing the same, but was unable to do something as a force pushed him, shoving him backwards and slamming a door behind him. Frantically, Sam felt around. Coat closet. He pushed against the door, but it was shoved against something.

Max was going to kill his stepmother. And possibly Dean.

At that thought, a now-familiar pain seared through Sam’s head and then it was playing in front of him. The gunshot, Dean’s death.

A cry involuntarily ripped its way through Sam, and something . . . something snapped.

A second later, and Sam could open the door.

He didn’t question it, just scrambled up the stairs and in to a situation that was messier than Dean eating pie.

“Max, you don’t have to do this. Please,” he begged. He assumed the gun was hovering in the air like in his vision, but had no way of knowing what was really going on.

The gunshot sent an electrical shock through him until he heard Dean’s voice. So Max had shot the stepmother, unless . . .

“Sam, he killed himself. We’re going to have to stick around and talk to the cops, okay?” Dean’s hands were on his shoulders, centering him.

“Yeah,” Sam said shakily, pushing away his selfish thought that had hoped that it had been either Max or the stepmother. Just not Dean.

* * *

It was only after the fallout that Dean allowed himself to think about what was going on.

“Sam, are you alright?”

Sam’s fingers were twisting together. “I used telekinesis in there. When he locked me in the closet. Dean, it was . . . what does it mean?”

Dean flopped down on the bed next to Sam, lying back and looking at the ceiling. “I dunno, Sam. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, alright?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam covering his face with his hands, like he was hiding his eyes, only there was no reason for that. “I just . . . Dean, these powers are supernatural. And with everything we hunt, I don’t know what to think. But in the visions, I can see. Really see.”

There was so much wistfulness in Sam’s voice.

Dean was about to reply when Sam soldiered on. “But Max’s powers, and what he used them for . . . Dean, what if this is what’s supposed to happen? Mom, Jess, my visions, what if it’s so we, you know, lose it?”

Dean didn’t have a proper answer, so he patted Sam’s leg instead.

Sam breathed deeply. “I got to see you. In the vision. I know what you look like, now.”

“That right?”

Sam turned to him slightly. “You have green eyes,” he stated.

“Uh, didn’t you know that?”

“Didn’t remember.”

Sam seemed oddly upset at that, and Dean sat up. “Hey. What’s the deal?”

“I saw you die.”

Dean jostled Sam easily. “But hey, you got to see my handsome mug. And I’m not dead.”

Sam bit his lip, but nodded. “Yeah.”

He went for a mix of deflection and comfort. “We’ll just take this day by day. Promise, little brother. As long as I’m around, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you.”

Sam back slumped. “I know.”

It wasn’t really enough, but for now, Dean figured, it would have to do.

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a bit all over the place. I've got some more solid ones coming, stick with me :)


End file.
